Hostile Love
by BrokenButNotCrushed
Summary: Because when it comes down to it, Sakura always chooses the worst ones. Probably SasuSaku.
1. The Cold Truth

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Panic here. This won't be a drabble nor a list of One-Shots. It will actually be a story! Isn't it great?! I can just feel your enthusiasm reverberating through the speakers. It's seriously rumbling through my computer right now as I type. I'm just so overjoyed! (Looks around and cries slightly.) Why aren't you enthused?!

Summary: Because when it comes down to it, Sakura always chooses the worst ones. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Nor do I pwn him.

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The truth is always hard to swallow. A bile medicine slowly sliding down your throat, clogging your senses until you can't possibly breath correctly. It stays in the pit of your stomach, filled up to the brim a sense of doubt and a loss of self confidence. The gooey substance sticks to the inside of the ribcage, clinging on hopelessly to your worn out heart, slowly gagging you, until it's sloshing around in the hollow pit of your stomach, and it's appalling, and it's revolting, and it's _too much-_

and you start drowning in a pool of contaminated water. All the while, it festers there, slowly decaying, leaving you withering in agony. 

And sometimes, I wish I could take it back. I wish I would have stayed in my comfort zone, my sense of security, my little padded cell. I wish I wouldn't have searched for it, pushed and prodded until the stories slowly unraveled to reveal lies. Hurtful, false statements that are cover ups of something far greater than what anyone could have possibly imagined. 

Thinking back on it, I probably knew all along. Sure, I didn't know that it would go to this extent, but I knew something wasn't right. From the moment he cancelled our dinner plans, I grew suspicious. After the third decline and the desperate pleas that _something came up _and_ I'll make it next time_, I knew that something was stirring in the calm atmosphere I so desperately tried to conjure. Something was lurking in the shadows, just outside the soft spotlight called ignorance, and prowling along the edges and into the depths of realization. 

I wasn't ready for it to ruin the warm glow around me. Nothing could ruin this moment, this happiness, this bliss. And yet, it sat there. Eyes wild and hungry, craving a decent spirit and waiting to pounce on the next unsuspecting victim that walked by. Twitching in anticipation, ready to tear the happy soul to shreds and devour the illusion of calm, just to be replaced with hopelessness, confusion, and utter anguish. 

The strong sense of foreboding the day before just wouldn't leave me. It swirled around me in a thick fog, causing me to choke on the revolting gas. My mind was in a haze as if I had been drugged. Maybe I had, I honestly don't know. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't put it past him. His innocent facade and cheeky grin caught me and pulled me in, clutching at my furiously beating heart and blushing cheeks. I didn't even know what hit me until after he skipped away merrily, free of charge, free of repercussions. 

And here I sit, back against the freezing concrete wall, legs splayed carelessly on the grimy floor. Why keep up your appearance when the only people in this dull cell are hostile, bitter criminals that have no feelings whatsoever? They could murder someone without even feeling a thing, while framing someone completely innocent. Which is exactly how I ended up in this predicament, slumped in a cold, damp cell, pittying myself entirely, when I _really_ don't have the_ right._ It was my own fault by not seeing through his act. I've never been good at observing the minor details. And since everything seemed so wonderful, so perfect, so _too good to be true, _I should have realized that it was.

With my mouth set in a grim line and my brows furrowed, I look up, only to quickly force my head back down. Gazing at me from across the room was a tall, burly man, who looked more like a sturdy brick wall than anything. A tattoo of a blazing skull with a snake twisted around it could clearly be seen, shining from his massive bicep. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his throat, and the sound of feet scraping the concrete echoed across the bare cell. I froze in fear, and my eyes, wide with horror, followed his feet that slowly inched toward me. A dark shadow loomed over my small, petrified form. For a brief, terrifying moment, all he did was stare at me. It felt like a hole was slowly being burned into my forehead from his tremendous glare. Then, a gruff, scratchy voice, full of malice and disgust, filled the room.

"What're you starin' at, princess?"

He spat my newly received nickname as if it were some type of disease. I winced, shutting my eyes tightly, then opening them again, praying it was a dream. His dirt ridden face popped into my view, and I gave off a sigh of defeat. It wasn't.

"Well?" He persisted, "You got anything ya want to say to me before I pound the livin' crap out of ya?"

I squeaked in surprise, then bashfully hung my head in shame, chiding myself that I shouldn't let my emotions show. A mocking chuckle filled the room, only to be cut short from surprise when another husky voice chimed in.

"Leave the kid alone, she didn't do nothin' to you. 's just scared, that's all."

I looked up in amazement, wondering who had just stood up for my sorry self. And then, there was the third voice, leaning against the wall in all his glory. Dark, unruly bangs hung low to reach his chiseled jaw. Obsidian orbs gazed back at me with a sense of amusement. His shirt hung off of his lean form like an enlarged pillowcase, most possibly from the slosh they call meals here. An arrogant smirk lit up his pale features, and I felt color rise to my cheeks. The smirk was soon replaced with a mischievous grin, and I felt the need to bash my head in. 

Out of all of the kinds of guys in the world, why do I _always_ fall for the devious ones?

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I could go a few routes with this story. I'll probably still go with what I intended to, but it won't just be _him_ showing up in the jail. (Grins maliciously) You'll just have to wait and see. Reviews are always welcome.

**Panic**


	2. Meeting the Crew

This is the second chapter to Hostile Love. It doesn't have as much fluff or counteraction as I would have liked. This is kind of just the start of the story, so expect a lot more in the chapters coming up. I promise the next chapter will be half as long as this. I just wanted to stop here since it seemed like a good stopping point.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, nor do I pwn him.

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Dark eyes stare straight at my crouched form. I can only look down, desperately trying to hide the blush, but completely failing. He's probably laughing right now, amused by my stupidity. How can a prepped up girl such as myself ever have a chance with a hot, gorgeous, drool-worthy, smokealicious, drop dead sexy-

Um, okay, I'll just stop my thought process right now.

The point _is_:

He's a hot, bad boy criminal that probably came off of the streets. I'm a high class schoolgirl who was practically raised in royalty. Need I say more? I mean, I have _pink_ _hair_ for God's sake.

It would just never work out. And he knows it. And I know it. And we _both_ know it. And _my God, why is he still staring_?!

I huff indignantly, blowing a strand of pink hair as I do so, and turn away, arms crossed. I hear a grunt of amusement and I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him. But that would be childish, I remind myself, and I'm obviously the more mature one here. Instead, I settle for glowering at the nearby wall.

Suddenly, the sound of keys jingling together is heard outside the cell. My ears perk up and I snap my head towards the noise. One of the wardens was standing outside our cell, unlocking the door. He had a deep frown etched onto his face, looking possibly permanent. There were no smile lines or any indication that he had ever looked happy before. I wonder if his face is stuck like that. Well that would be a downer. You could never smile, so you'd be depressed about that, which would make the frown lines deeper. And it would be similar to botox.

I shuddered in disgust. I hated that crap. My mom always uses it. She gets it about every ten months. She says it makes her look beautiful and young. I say it makes her look like a frozen scarecrow. All _she_ can do is smile. And it's not even a true smile, so it just looks super fake.

Although botox has it's ups to it. I snorted lightly when I remembered the time that the botox lady froze mom's face in the wrong way. She looked like a constipated cow.

Add to the fact that she can _only_ smile. Sometimes I get in trouble just to upset her, because she's angry at me and wants to frown disapprovingly, but with the botox, she can just smile. And she can hardly move her mouth to talk. So all I hear is her muffled screams of aggitation. I always smirk at her, which just riles her up even more, and brings more entertainment to me.

Yes, life is good at my side of the street.

I was so wrapped up in my little memory dots that I didn't notice that the warden was letting us go to get lunch.

"Hey, are you comin' or what? I don't got all day."

I snapped out of my daze and hastily stood up, spurting out apologies and smiling sheepishly. He only glared in response.

_Like he can do anything else._

I speed walked out of the cell and only slowed down until I was a safe distance away from the angry looking man. I didn't need him slicing me in the back with his keys.

I reached the cafeteria and looked around. The only thing I could see were multiple criminals, all in the same shockingly orange jumpsuits. They all looked big, buff, and incredibly mean. I whimpered slightly to myself.

Why couldn't my parents just bail me out? We certainly have enough money to drop the charges, even if it was first degree murder. Why couldn't they believe me when I told them that I didn't really kill anyone? I don't need to "Learn a lesson." I didn't even do anything! I just fell for the wrong guy, that's all!

I walked to the back of the food line, waiting patiently. When I finally reached the front of the line, I held by tray out for the food. A big ball of brown goop was slopped onto my plate. My nose twitched in disgust when the horrible odor of the "food" wafted up. Was that the scent of sweat socks and spoiled milk?

Nevertheless, I didn't want to appear rude, so I smiled politely. A surprised look overtook the lady's face, which then formed into a soft smile full of gratitude. It seemed to me that these criminals weren't very appreciative of many things. I grinned to myself, anyways. I think I just made a friend.

After taking the tray full of goop, I turned around to find a table.

The first place to sit at had a group of buff men, all with tattoos on their arms that somehow symbolized death. Piercings and death glares all around! They looked like a group of hardcore motorcyclists. One of the members caught my eye and bared his teeth. I shivered slightly, immediately deciding not to sit there.

The next table had tall, lanky people. They all looked to be on the light side, their bodies more lean than muscular. I wondered how they managed to make it in here, since they seemed relatively harmless. I was just making my way over to the table, when a flicker of light caught my eye. Ah, so they're pyromaniacs. (I believe that's fire starters, or people who like to watch things burn. Correct me if I'm wrong.) Well okay, then. For some reason, I didn't feel like getting my hand singed, so on to the next table.

At this point, people were starting to look at me curiously, wondering what I was doing standing in the middle of the aisle. Whenever I caught their eye, I would smile back, albeit a little nervous. This would only cause them to either glare at me, or turn their back, deciding that I wasn't even worth their glance.

The last table had a group of teenagers around my age. They didn't really fit into a category, and all looked relatively different. The only thing that made them all similar was that they were all insanely gorgeous.

The one good thing was that they all seemed reasonably nice. When I came within a ten foot radius of the table, no one glared at me, so I deemed it safe. Slowly, hesitantly, I came to the edge of the table. Their mindless chatter soon dissipated and it became dead silent, their attention now focused on me.

I gulped in a frightened fashion and put on a weak smile.

"Um, hello everybody." I laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension, but only succeeding in creating more. "Can I, um, may I sit here? Please?"

Silence. No one said a thing, so I continued on with my fruitless attempt at trying to sit at the table.

"I know that you probably think of me as a goody-goody girl, and in reality, I guess I am. And I normally wouldn't even _consider_ to sit at a criminals table, but the first table had frightening guys and one of them _glared_ at me, and the second table had pyromaniacs and I mean they _seemed_ harmless, but I'm not one for getting set up in flames. And then I see this table, and you guys all seem really nice; well I guess not _completely_ nice, since you all _are_ in a jail, but I mean I guess I am, too. But that's because I was framed because I have sucky choices for a boyfriend and I _knew_ that he was trouble, but I didn't say anything because he was so _hot_ and…and…um, may I please sit here?"

At the beginning, I started off bold. When I reached the end of my tirade, my voice was meek and timid, hardly above a whisper and a cross between desperate and pleading.

Again, there was silence. It almost seemed like the whole cafeteria was watching me make an entire fool out of myself, but when I glanced around, I realized that no one was paying attention. I felt slightly relieved at this, but then remembered that I had a table full of people staring at me. The only type of people that seemed almost nice.

Well crap, I screwed that up.

I raised my head and caught the eyes of the previous cook. She smiled at me sympathetically and I groaned inwardly. Great, my only friend now thinks I'm a loser. I sighed in dejection and turned on my heel, ready to sit at the burly guy's table. At least there, I'd only get beat up instead of having my flesh burnt.

Just as I was about to make a step, I heard a noise that strangely sounded like someone clearing their throat. I turned halfway, looking over my shoulder questioningly. Clear blue eyes stared straight at me with a twinkle of amusement in them.

"Well, that was an…interesting speech, I have to admit." I opened my mouth to apologize, but he waved it off and continued.

"And considering your current options, I guess it's only fair that this was your last choice. I think it would be alright if you sat with us."

I beamed at him, my eyes gleaming in happiness. Just as I was about to say, "Thank you," his eyes latched onto another member of the group.

"Would that be okay, Captain?"

All of their heads turned simultaneously toward the Captain. My gaze also snapped to him, both wondering if he'd let me stay there, and who the Captain was. My eyes widened slightly and I was pretty sure that my mouth was open in surprise. Dark eyes locked onto mine and he smirked again. _Damn him and that smirk. Why did _he_ have to be the captain._

"I guess it would be alright. As long as she doesn't cause…trouble."

If my mouth wasn't already open with surprise, it sure was now. I sort of squawked in outrage, my face resembling a tomato from the anger building up within my chest. _I_ would cause trouble. _Me?_ Like hell! I'm not the criminal here! I was framed! Can _he_ say that? I don't think so!

I opened my mouth in protest, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when a hand in front of my face stopped me. I looked at it, puzzled, and slowly followed from the hand to the limb attached to the hand, only to be met with the same boy from earlier. He shook his head slightly, silently telling me to let it go. It looked like this was common behavior for the black-eyed pretty boy.

I pouted, not used to not having my way. The others only chuckled lightly, and I took a place next to the blond boy. He grinned at me, and the conversation started up once more at the table.

I smiled in relief. At least I wasn't killed today. But that wasn't certain for tomorrow.

I felt someone watching me, and I turned my head. Obsidian orbs stared at me from across the table. Instead of looking away like I would have done this morning, I smirked.

"Captain." I acknowledged, bowing my head slightly. He smirked, too, an odd glint in his eye. Maybe being a criminal wasn't so bad after all.

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That's it. Well, how was it? Again, there will be more dialogue and scenes in the upcoming chapters. I just wanted to get it started and stuff.

And as always, my writing style depends on my mood. So since I was relatively happy (ZOMG! JABBAWOCKEEZ WON! Although I wanted Kaba Modern to win, first...) I came out with a slightly happier story (With less angst.) I want to know your imput. Do you like happier stories with drama? Or angst-ier stories with...angst. Tell me what you think.

And I can only hope that you can guess who the captain is. If you can't, then I'll be nice and tell you. The captain is Itachi.

And also, reviews would be great.

**Panic**

Lol just kidding. I wonder if any of you caught that. The real captain is Sasuke.

My mind was processing Sasuke, but as I wrote it out, my fingers typed Itachi and I just decided to leave it.

Anyways, review, review!

(Puppy-dog eyes) Pretty please?


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